


AC Requests

by GothicWolf03



Category: Assassin's Creed
Genre: Alternate Universe, Different Genres, F/M, Fluff, Free-for-all, Gen, Modern AU!, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Porn With Plot, Smut, collection
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-12-19
Updated: 2016-03-30
Packaged: 2018-05-07 16:57:02
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 17,724
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5464070
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GothicWolf03/pseuds/GothicWolf03
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Charlotte: Looks like everything is in order, Gothic. Here is your hat.</p><p>Gothic: Excellent :D *Puts on movie hat and sits back* So, would anyone like to start?</p>
        </blockquote>





	1. General Information

The time has come; time to fulfill all of your requests! I’m so excited to hear what everyone has to say, and boy do I have a lot in store for you guys :D

Anyway, before we begin, just wanted to say that I’ll try to go through all of your requests as much as I can; I do have other major stories to work on as well so please be patient if I can't post anything yet. Ratings are free-for-all, therefore it can range from friendly G to naughty E. G rated shots I’ll instantly have that up in no time, but anywhere close to E I might take longer because of the smut and such XD

Here are the following pairings/people that I will ONLY mainly focus on (I'll ignore anything that doesn't include the following). I DON'T do yaoi/yuri/incest/whatever so please don't ask—I'm not into that.

Pairings are indicated with "x" in between the names. And here are our lovely contestants, mostly from Syndicate but with a dash of Rogue, Unity, & Revelations ;)

 

1.) Jacob & Evie (brother-sister hilarity/rivalry)

2.) Henry x Evie

3.) Arno x Evie

4.) Clara!

5.) Jacob x Charlotte Faulkner (OFC)

6.) Shay x Charlotte Faulkner (OFC)

7.) Ezio x Sofia

 

***Any other side characters not listed from what I have will act as our lovely audience. If you want a story based on one single character above, meaning no pairings and such, I'll write it too

If you like for me to gift requests, let me know for birthdays or anything else--I will mention your names if you like. If you want to remain anonymous, that's fine too. You can reach me via email or work comments; I'll welcome you with a warm smile and a major hug :D

Have a specific plot in mind or any questions to ask me, whether personal or not? Don't be shy to share; I'll happily write whatever plot you have, even if its Modern AU, current, or anything else your awesome minds can imagine! And as for the questions, I promise you that I won't get offended and I'll immediately answer to the best of my abilities :)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Charlotte: Looks like everything is in order, Gothic. Here is your hat.
> 
> Gothic: Excellent :D *Puts on movie hat and sits back* So, would anyone like to start?


	2. Do Not Go Gentle Into That Good Night {Jacob x Charlotte}

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When everything seems bleak for Jacob in the aftermath of the war, only his wife can help pull him out of the darkness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here is the first request from PurpleAurore :) Hope you like it!
> 
> Rating: G
> 
> Warning: Dark thoughts (but happy ending)
> 
> ***Title from the famous poem by Dylan Thomas

Darkness was the only thing that blanketed the entire study room, caging in everything within the confines of the surrounding walls. Thick draperies covered the windows, preventing any light from peeking in through the cracks, and the main door was sealed off from any outside disturbances.

A man sat at the far corner of the room in an antique chair, elbows placed on top of the wooden surface of the oaken table, letting the dim candlelight burn through his clothes. He wearily stared at the empty wall in front of him, glossy eyes robed of hope as his parted lips let the stinging liquid fluidly slide down his throat, releasing a shaky sigh afterwards.

Jacob rubbed at his eyes, feeling moisture coat his fingers before he continued downing the entire bottle without grace. He briefly coughed, patting his chest before wiping at the corners of his mouth. His hazel eyes then glanced at the discarded gauntlets in front of him, feeling a cold shiver wash over him from lingering too long at his weapons.

_How long has it been?_

The elder male couldn’t exactly recall when he had left the order; it felt like a lifetime since London was liberated from Templar control and he finally managed to settle down with his wife, but everything he had worked hard to achieve was for nothing—he felt like a nothing. It was never him, he bitterly thought after all the chaos was set aside; he had done nothing but pretend being the savior he thought London needed, a charismatic hero who could round up the poor and fight for freedom, providing words that rid away the fears plaguing their hearts.

Yet Jacob didn't feel like he was a true hero, not like his sister who possessed all the knowledge and expertise of one who could successfully lead the masses. It was her idea to locate the Shroud; she was the one who insisted on finding the artifact and from there take down the enemies to prevent serious casualties, but Jacob once again ignored her notions and went through with his own plans. Due to his carelessness, innocent people he had dragged into the war were lost along the way, and pieces of his heart shattered for every soul murdered by Templar hands.

As usual, his sister had been right.

“Always Evie,” the ex-assassin hissed, narrowing his eyes while his hands tightly gripped onto the glass bottle, his knuckles turning white. Jacob abruptly swung the bottle to the side, seeing the amber liquid stain the olive green wall and shards of glass cascading onto the floor before sinking further in his chair.

Why did his sister always have to excel in everything? He tried so hard to rival up to her, always trying to gain his father’s approval, even if it meant attempting to crack one smile from him, but it wasn’t enough. Nothing was ever enough for Ethan Frye in regards with his son. Their father would push them to train hard until their knuckles bled, until their eyes couldn’t see the light of day and their bodies struggling to stand up. The younger twin couldn’t handle the pressure, wanting to rest while his sister bravely held her chin up and obeyed her father every step of the way. The hypocrite visibly favored the eldest twin whereas he constantly berated the younger one to take his training more seriously so he could one day be just like his sister.

But Jacob didn’t want to be like her; he might learn a few things from Evie, sure, though he wanted to be his own person, and wasn’t that good enough for his father to understand?

“I hate you,” he lowly growled, imagining his father’s rigid form looming over him with a stern expression over his stone face, always deemed to be the alpha male in the family while taunting the lower members. “I fucking hate you.”

He was glad he had escaped that hellhole when he got the chance, opting out to live on the streets where he was welcomed by other outcasts like himself instead of being choked by his father’s iron grasp. Jacob recounted all of the fights he had participated in just to earn hard cash, ignoring his father’s demands to come home as he drank with his brethrens. Only in the streets did Jacob ever truly feel like he had a home, and he didn’t bother returning to his father and his empty promises.

_He could die for all I cared. Glad he finally did._

Even if everything was in the past, his father having been long dead and London already freed from oppression, Jacob’s determination and youthful spirit gradually faded away until he was but a shell of a man. The war between the assassins and Templars had taken a great toll on his body, and his mind broken beyond repair from all the madness that had transpired, making him distance himself from his wife and son. His head slumped onto the table, fingers brushing against his greasy locks as he brooded over everything.

The Ripper case didn’t even help alleviate his troubles, if anything Jacob feel deeper into depression just thinking about the maniac running free and slaughtering women, heavily reminded of all his failures in life and the Rooks that were taken from him. Though he didn’t need to intervene—he gave up chasing bad guys years ago. Besides, his brilliant, dear sister can manage on her own with Henry; not like she needed him in the first place.

_She’ll be alright like she normally is. But me? I’ll wither away, and no one would care._

Jacob stilled when he felt a hand brush against his back, roaming over his broad shoulder. Her movements were quiet, though he could picture his wife bending down on one leg, with her arm resting on top like she normally does when comforting him. He feebly lifted his head, not fully turning around to face her, though he could see enough from his peripheral vision to notice her steely blue eyes watching his sluggish actions.

He swallowed. “I thought I locked the doors.”

She faintly smiled, brushing his dark lock away from his forehead and placing it behind his ear. “Nothing can keep me away from you. You haven’t come out in days; Emmet and I are worried.”

“You wouldn’t understand . . .”

Charlotte sighed, retracting her hand away from him, and he instantly missed her touch. “Jacob, you above all others know what I’ve been through; I’ve had my fair share of torture, too.”

Jacob finally stared back at her, noticing the way her spine rigidly rose from fully glancing at his face. He wasn’t surprised; he would’ve reacted the same way if he happened to look upon his sunken eyes and pale skin deprived of sunlight, his crippled appearance making it appear as if he hadn’t eaten in a while, which he hadn’t.

“ . . . I’m sorry,” he croaked. “I’m not good enough for anyone; not for my father, Evie, and not even you or our son.”

“Jacob—”

He shook his head, tears threatening to spill past his shut eyelids. “Just let me be, let me waste here in the darkness. I’m worthless.”

A strong tug against his arm made the rugged man reel towards his wife, wide eyes gazing at her stern expression. Shrouded within her icy orbs was a flicker of concern, and the intensity of her gaze had nailed him in place, his brawny arms tightly gripping onto the armchairs while she dissected every muscle on his face.

_Don’t stare at me like that._

He didn’t stop her from leaning closer, her long raven locks brushing over his arm, and his hand twitched just to weave through her thick hair. Her breath ghosted over his cheek, cold fingers cupping the back of his neck to lightly stroke his hair.

“Jacob, you’re not worthless,” she lowly replied. “Far from it. How could you not see how special you are?”

No one had ever told him that, and hearing those words escape past the Scottish woman’s lips made him feel warm inside, igniting a fire that had once been extinguished. Jacob only swallowed, trying so hard not to look away from her speculative eyes. “I’m not like—”

“Doesn’t matter,” the dark-haired woman effectively cut him off. “You’re not Evie, and you don’t have to be. Against all odds, you’re not afraid to head into danger and fight your way through, or protect those you love out of harm’s way. The only person getting in the way of your happiness, from ever believing in yourself, is you. That is your greatest enemy.”

The clock loudly gonged from outside the room, twelve notes striking throughout the ominous house. The noise silenced their conversation, both looking at one another without any spoken words as they let the grandfather clock announce its presence. They didn’t need too; they mentally communicated with one another through their actions and thoughts that both didn’t find it necessary to speak.

Only when the clock finished chiming did Jacob lean in, pressing his lips against hers and swallowing her shocked gasp. Charlotte easily relaxed from his affectionate gesture, having already been used to his spontaneous whims all these years they’ve been married. So she gave in, letting him tug her hair to angle her head and drag the kiss on, allowing her husband to release all his miseries onto her.

Jacob pulled back, letting his head fall into her shoulder while she cradled him. “I don’t know what to do anymore,” he whispered against her skin.

“Keep fighting,” Charlotte breathed, forcing him to look at her so he would understand how much she genuinely meant every word she said. "Don't give up so easily when you have so much to live for."

The British man softly smirked for the first time, brown-green eyes shining underneath the orange light. “Was it difficult? Getting rid of the pain?”

Charlotte instantly nodded. “Took years, but eventually I found my way.”

“How?”

“I realized that I wasn’t getting anywhere being locked away from everything, and so I slowly let myself become surrounded by those who cared about me.” Her fingers rubbed over his chin, feeling his stubble tickle underneath her soft touch. “Never lose faith in what’s in front of you.”

As soon as she stood up to reach for the curtains, Jacob relished in the afternoon light that poured over into the room, accepting its warmth and banishing all of the darkness away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Up Next: Shay x Charlotte


	3. Partners {Shay x Charlotte}

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shay and his crew navigate the ocean looking for the Precursor box, but a deadly naval fight makes him rethink his feelings for a certain female Templar

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A request from StupidLegit XD
> 
> Rating: T
> 
> Warning: Mild violence

The sun was heavily beating down on the ship that sailed through the glimmering ocean, its red sails flapping in the wind while the crew continued their labors. No other ship was in sight as the _Morrigan_ sailed onward due east towards Europe, which made the captain glad.

Shay expertly steered the wheel, barking orders at his men when the waves started getting bigger, his tongue lapping at the salty water spraying his face. His dark eyes remained transfixed on the water in front of him, hearing boots padding next to him. “Gist, remind me again where we’re going?”

His first-mate heartily chuckled, patting the Irishman on the back. “Seems the sun is getting to your head, Shay.”

“Aye, searching over five years for the box does that to a man.”

“Indeed,” Gist nodded before surveying the deck below him at the lone woman observing the sailormen. “The lass found leads to the box pinpointing back to the French in their country, though cannot explain who has it. It’s not much, but it’s a start.”

Shay silently nodded, trying to focus on the voyage ahead, but his eyes couldn’t help but glance at the tall woman calmly walking around deck, her posture erect and rigid like a soldier. If he didn’t know who the Scottish woman was, he could’ve easily mistaken her for one of the redcoats with the way she strutted around, dominating the lower deck.

His eyes narrowed when he saw her unexpectantly stop in her deliberate steps, her head glancing at the horizon before she hastily climbed up the stairs, appearing by his side in a blink of an eye. “Shay, we’ve got company.”

The Irishman followed her line of sight, finding that Charlotte had been right; an unknown vessel was slowly sailing through the ocean. He squinted, trying to detect the vessel’s flag to see if it was an ally or not, and he thanked Gist for handing him the spyglass. Peering into the small instrument, Shay focused onto the British flag waving in the wind, easing a bit as he shook his head at them. “Just a British vessel,” he replied. "Nothing to fear."

But then why was it coming straight towards them? The British didn’t have anything against the Templars, instead working together to combat against the assassins and their French allies. Maybe the ship was heading to America to deliver exports to Boston or another major town by order of the crown.

“Something’s wrong,” he heard the raven-haired woman lowly reply next to him. “They’re not changing course.”

“Shay,” Gist warned, his eyes locked onto the large vessel in front of them, their mast dangerously close to colliding with the _Morrigan_.

Before anyone could say another word, a thick fog of smoke blanketed the entire ship, causing the crew to profusely cough from the gas surrounding them. The trio bent down on weak knees, trying to cover their nose from the awful smell while covering their face with whatever they could use. Shrill cries were heard throughout the fog, blood staining the wooden deck while they heard swords clashing with one another.

“Assassins!” Shay shouted, pulling his mask closer to his face before withdrawing his swords. “Alright lads, fight!”

Hearing their captain’s yell through the smoke, the crew instantly retracted their weapons and open fired at the gang assassins trying to snatch their heads off once everything was clear again. Everyone partnered up, using their combined forces to intimidate their enemies.

Shay dodged an axe blow meant for his neck, rolling over the deck to stare at the menacing brute who savagely snarled at him, swinging his axe over his head before bringing it down onto the deck. The Irishman instantly hit his head, stunning the large man before shoving his sword through his chest, drawing it back to watch the blood coat the weapon and the man limply collapsing onto the floor.

He assisted the rest of his men, firing his flintlocks at the enemies trying to slaughter his crew. Shay cursed when he realized he was all out of bullets, and he quickly brought his sword up to dodge the metallic weapon. He gritted his teeth, hearing the swords sinfully grinding against one another so hard that few sparks came out.

The male assassin grinned, swiftly bringing his sword down, but he gasped when the captain strongly pushed him away, using his boot to kick him in the groin before slicing his head off.

Shay licked his lips, eyes trying to locate anyone who needed help. He instantly viewed at the familiar black hair swaying in the wind, the deadly woman easily dodging the men’s attacks and butchering their chests before they could harm the cowering sailors. His eyes widened when the captain finally revealed himself from all the bloodshed, seeing him lick his lips at the female warrior reducing his numbers. “Lass!”

Charlotte confusedly stared back at her comrade, though her steely eyes glared to the side at the captain advancing on her, and she quickly leaped back the same time he swung, her teeth gritting from the steel blade hotly cutting her side and ripping a part of her shirt. She stumbled a bit, clutching at the crimson substance flowing between her fingers. The Scottish woman didn’t have enough time to grab her sword, trying to move away from the captain who kept barraging her until her back met with the foremast.

Right when the captain caged her in, Shay tried to rid all thoughts of her head being sliced off, clenching his fingers in pure hate for the scoundrel. He had lost so many friends throughout the years by his own hands, and the male Templar wasn’t going to lose another one that was close to his heart. He’d be damned if he ever saw the dark-haired woman dead before his eyes, realizing the powerful emotion he felt for her surfacing within his heart.

“Out of the way!” Shay punched at a few assassins to the side, ignoring their alarmed gasps as his crew rapidly killed them. He didn’t care at the moment; his main focus was making sure his teammate was safe and alive.

“Lost, poppet?” the captain taunted, eyes wildly flashing as he roamed over her battered form.

“I could say the same to you.” Charlotte abruptly swung her leg out, seething from the pain in her side that burned like hell. She faintly smirked when Shay appeared with his sword driving through the man’s back, the Irishman grunting while he deeply drove the blade in before letting the corpse drop, successfully ending the battle.

The crew came back with heavy chests, their delighted smiles visibly seen once they’ve collected all of the loot from the enemy. They cheered, offering praises to their captain before locking away the treasure down below deck.

Shay nodded to his crew members, making his way over to the tall woman clutching at her hip. “You okay, lass?”

Charlotte mutely nodded, gladly accepting his outstretched hand as she stood up, sweat beading down her temples from the pressure. She didn’t question him as his muscular arm supported her waist, her arm thrown over his sweaty neck while he took them back to his quarters. “Thank you.”

He smirked, gently patting her back so as not to harm her. “What are partners for?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Up Next: Arno x Evie


	4. Taxi Ride {Arno x Evie}

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Caught up in the rain with no one to take her home, Evie manages to snag a taxi cab with another stranger. Modern AU!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For my friend, though I'm respecting her wishes to remain anonymous :)
> 
> Rating: G
> 
> Warning: Fluffiness! :D

_I’m going to kill him._

Raindrops kept pelting onto the concrete like thousands of sharp needles piercing the ground, a loud noise resounding overhead as the British woman peered at the dark clouds. Flashes of white appeared behind the thick, gray masses, making the brunette wince on instinct.

It was already 5:30 in the afternoon, and Evie couldn’t wait to return back to the apartment to start her mega movie marathon that would surely span over the weekend. All she wanted was to change into her cozy pajamas, take out the boxes of chocolates from the fridge and eat her way through her movies, but Mother Nature seemed to have another thing in store for her today.

Evie put a hand to her forehead, wiping away at the moisture landing on her skin as the wind increased, the rain flying in all directions. She stepped back under the shelter, cursing for not bringing her umbrella with her to work today. She had no car with her; being extremely tired from waking up in the morning she instead asked for her brother to drive her to work without questions, and thus depended on him to come pick her up, seeing as how Jacob protested against her walking the streets alone in the evenings.

But she got off work a half hour ago, which meant he was late.

The British woman nervously glanced at her watch, seething when it was getting close to six. She fumbled through her purse, gloves gripping onto the various makeup products before taking out her iPhone.

“Please pick up,” she muttered to herself, putting the phone against her ear while she closed her purse so as to not get it soaked. “Jacob?”

 _“Sister?”_ his deep voice sounded from the other side, along with a gurgling noise that muffled the phone. _“You needed something?”_

 _Are you kidding me?_ Evie could just slap him for his ignorance, already hating her day. It was bad enough that she had to deal with haughty businessmen at work, but now she had to deal with her idiotic brother?

The brunette placed a hand on her hip, glancing around the empty street flooded with water. “Aren’t you forgetting something?”

There was a long pause on the other end, and she could faintly hear Jacob cursing to himself in the background. _“Right,”_ he later added once he regained his bearings. _“I was supposed to get you . . .”_

She rolled her eyes. “Yes. You promised me that you would, and I trusted you to—would you stop it!?”

_“Hm?”_

“What’s with all the noise?” she questioned.

_“Oh . . . I’m drying my hair . . .”_

Evie snickered, holding a hand close to her mouth as she pictured Jacob with a white towel over his head wrapped like a shawl, just like the people in the salon wear it.

_“Hey, I hear you! Stop that!”_

“S-sorry.” She brushed away a tear, her eyes still crinkling from the hilarious thought. “Anyway, you need to come get me now.”

_“ . . . What part of drying my hair didn’t you understand? I can’t go out in the rain when I’m not even dry!”_

Of all the things her brother could have an excuse to not pick her up, she hadn’t expected him to protest over his wet hair. He wouldn’t have to be drying his hair if he had bothered to remember to pick her up, and her patience was wearing thin already now that an hour was almost wasted being out in this horrendous weather.

“Jacob, I mean it. It’s pouring outside, and I don’t have an umbrella—”

 _“Really?”_ she could hear his mock gasp from the other end, feeling her cheeks flush in embarrassment. _“The perfect Evie Frye didn’t bring an umbrella? This is interesting, considering you’re so on point with everything. Well, love to stay and chat, but I need to finish. I’ll be there at most in an hour.”_

“ _An hour_!? I’m not waiting that long for you. I’ll just take a taxi home.”

_“No! You’re not—”_

Evie blinked, no longer hearing her brother’s voice as her green eyes scanned over her phone, seeing her battery life already depleted _. Great. Well, least I won’t have to listen to him anymore._

Even if she was the older of the two—and the smarter one—Jacob was so overly protective of her and dictated everything she did. Evie would’ve loved to argue with him and his controlling ways, but she didn’t have the stomach to waste her breath on meaningless things, especially fights with Jacob. He was always so childish that most of the time he would win by just whining.

She sighed, already growing tired of standing alone. Her leg muscles ached, though she wouldn’t dare sit down on the drenched bench. So, the older twin patiently waited, eyes wandering left and right for any sign of cars through the thick downpour.

_Yes!_

Her luck seemed to turn around, for a bright yellow taxi cab came driving through the rain, its headlights blinding a path through the fog. Evie raised her hand up, loudly shouting for the taxi to stop so she could finally leave. To her delight, the cab came to a complete stop by the curb, the driver gesturing for her to come in.

Placing the big purse over her head, Evie rapidly walked into the rain and over to the car, opening the door and hopping in before she could get soaked. At the same time the brunette hurriedly sat down, a person came inside and accidentally head-butted her, making Evie gasp from the intense pain against her skull.

“Bloody hell!” she hissed, hand placed against her forehead where she got hit.

“Mon dieu, I’m very sorry mademoiselle,” the stranger whispered, his rough hands gently brushing at the spot, which caused Evie to shudder from the physical contact. “I didn’t hurt you too badly, did I?”

The first thing she noticed were his warm, golden brown eyes, and Evie was so caught up in his beautiful eyes that she failed to notice his worried face as he inspected her head. A faint blush sported across her freckled face, feeling his heat radiate off of him while he leaned closer, causing her to sniff at his musky scent.

_He smells nice._

Evie blinked, suddenly aware of how sappy she sounded. _He smells nice?_ She mentally stated, wanting to face-palm herself. _God, where did that come from? You watch too many romance movies, Evie._

“No, I’m fine, thank you. Why are you in my taxi?”

The handsome stranger raised an eyebrow at her sudden behavior, a grin stretched across his jawline, accentuating the scar on his left cheek. She curiously wondered where he acquired that mark, thinking back on Jacob’s scar over his eyebrow from the nasty gang fight he had over a year ago. “Your taxi? If I remember correctly, I came here first.”

She scoffed. “No, I perfectly remember arriving before you.”

The driver opened the glass slot when he heard the two guests arguing, a bored look on his gruff face. “I don’t have all day, kids. Either one of you gets off, or you’re both stuck with each other for the ride. What’s it going to be?”

In the end, Evie relented in letting the man ride home with her, huffing as she leaned back into the cushions with her black purse wedged between them. Her eyes tried to look anywhere but him, though she couldn’t help but steal secretive glances every now and then.

The storm didn’t let up, making the driver slow down in the heavy rain. The British woman doubted she would ever make it home in time, and her boredom was already peaking. She fully intended on indulging in her own shows and chocolate treats, though her moron of a brother ruined that for her just like all the times he’s ruined their birthdays for some crazy idea.

“What’s your name?”

Evie jumped in her seat, not expecting her guest to abruptly start a conversation with her after basking in the silence for so long. “Evie,” she reluctantly said, brushing a small lock of her brown hair away. “You?”

“You may call me Arno, mademoiselle.”

_God, even his accent is sexy._

“Arno,” she whispered, finding that she liked the sound of his name rolling off her tongue. “What part of France are you from?”

What had started out as an awkward meeting soon spiraled into a full-length conversation, with both people animatedly sharing their personal lives with one another. Evie didn’t know why she felt the need to tell him every embarrassing moment that happened to Jacob and all the good times she had with her twin, but it somehow felt right. And Arno was such a great listener, nodding in understanding and laughing at her stories with that deep chuckle that made her melt. In return, he mentioned his life story of growing up in France with his adoptive father until he moved abroad for a job opportunity.

Evie stared in wonder at the beautiful pocket watch he retracted from his coat pocket, her fingers gently caressing the golden surface in awe. “This was your father’s?”

“Oui. It’s the only thing I have left of him after he was killed in a plane crash.”

“It’s beautiful,” she breathed, light eyes instantly meeting his amber hues as they silently watched one another. Evie swore she saw him hesitantly lean forward, and she couldn’t help but draw herself near him.

But the Frenchman only placed his hands firmly on her shoulders, shoving her onto the seat after yelling, “Get down!”

“What?” Evie writhed underneath him, loathing how his massive frame entrapped her onto the seat below her. “Arno, if this is some kind of—”

“Non, don’t move.”

She did as she was told, chest heaving up and down underneath her dark buttoned coat while her eyes focused on him. Evie heard nothing out of the ordinary as far as she was concerned, ears perking up for any weird sounds, though all she heard was the rain outside the car hitting the glass window. “Arno?”

“We’re safe,” he breathed, getting off of her. “She’s gone.”

_She?_

Pressing her hands on the seat, the female brunette hoisted herself up, cringing from the cracking sound coming from her back. She then searched Arno’s face, trying to figure out what he was hiding. “What just happened? Who were we hiding from?”

Arno sighed, falling back into his seat after checking the rear window. “Elise, my adopted sister.”

“Okay . . .”

“You don’t understand, I’ve been trying to avoid her for the past three years. Her father was trying to set us up, but I have no interest in her. One of the reasons why I came here to America was to get away from her.”

Evie smirked. “I take it she didn’t like the rejection?”

Arno laughed, shaking his head. “She’s nuts. For some reason, she seems to know where I am and will follow me to the ends of the earth. Very disturbing, to say the least.”

“Indeed.”

She watched him glance back one more time, hearing him loudly curse in French before tapping on the glass slot to talk with the driver. “Step on it!”

“Woah!” Evie fell back in her seat, hands sprawling behind her. Thank god she chose to buckle her seat-belt before they took off, or else she would’ve no doubt flown out the car with how the driver was speeding across the slippery road. Her green eyes curiously peered back at the foggy window, faintly seeing the streak of red hair fading in the background.

Arno didn’t talk to her anymore after they’ve eluded his psychotic sister, and the cab was slowly approaching the front side of Evie’s apartment complex. She felt a wave of sadness wash over her as she realized in that moment she would most likely never see him again, and her feet reluctantly got out of the opened door that was held by the driver. “Thank you,” Evie stated, going through her purse while she was getting soaked by the rain, feeling her clothes getting soggy and sticking to her skin. Her eyes widened when she couldn’t find her wallet, swearing she had seen it, but a large hand stopped her.

“Let me,” his husky voice said in her ear so she could hear better through all the noise. Arno gave the wad of cash to the driver, telling him to keep the change before facing the woman. “Guess this is it.”

Evie nodded, her mouth set in a grim line. “Yeah . . .”

As much as she wanted to go inside the building, Evie didn’t want to depart away from her new-found friend. Their adventure was . . . interesting, she thought, half-smirking from their fun ride. Her eyes widened when he kindly kissed her cheek, itching to rub at the moist spot that sent a fire blazing across her skin.

“Goodbye, Evie." He gave her a charming wink before getting closer to the cab.

"Wait!"

 _Great, what do I do now?_ The British woman bit her lower lip, not sure what else to say after she absentmindedly called out to him, his large eyes staring at her in confusion. She shuffled in her spot, watching the raindrops slide down Arno’s cheek and neck. “W-would you like to come inside?”

His pearly white smile had her swooning to her knees, and she couldn’t help but return the favor as Arno waved the driver off before bounding over to her side, heading back inside the complex building together.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Up Next: Henry x Evie


	5. Wedding Night {Henry x Evie}

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They were finally married, and Evie celebrates with all of her friends before spending her first intimate night with her husband.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A request from -Indigo-Star- :) And I believe this is the first time I've written an actual Henvie XD
> 
> Rating: E (just to be safe)
> 
> Warning: Smut!

She couldn’t help contain her excitement as she watched everyone merrily dancing with one another across the ballroom, a wide smile adorning her freckled face.

Just hours ago they’ve been cooped up inside the stuffy church, patiently watching the wedding ceremony unfold with legs nailed to the benches. It was a bit uncomfortable with the excruciating heat pouring through the windows, making their clothes stick to their bodies and break out into pools of sweat, but no one complained. Everyone cried tears of joy once the couple finally shared a kiss, standing up and throwing petals around at the newlyweds walking down the aisle. Her brother had been excited as well, stating that he was glad to see his sister and best friend finally commit to each other as husband and wife.

Evie smirked in thought, remembering how Jacob almost lost the golden rings when he stepped up to the alter. Gasps filled the courtroom as the rings slipped from his fingers—even a few old ladies nearly fainted in shock—and the younger twin anxiously checked everyone’s feet searching for the tiny objects, even hitting his head against the benches a few times. It was a miracle that Clara, her little flower girl, managed to procure the rings from underneath the carpet, the cockney girl giggling to herself while Jacob playfully tickled her sides until she couldn’t breathe.

 _It could’ve ended in a disaster. Thank god Clara fixed it_. Evie kindly smiled back at the people who briefly approached her and offered her their congratulations, clasping onto their hands before watching them disappear.

Afterwards, the queen invited everyone over to her palace to celebrate, laying out a grand buffet table with warm meals and sweet treats. As soon as they stuffed their bellies and said a few toasts, the guests abruptly pushed aside the furniture, grabbing each other’s hands and immediately dancing to the symphonic melody.

Her white dress twirled around her as she allowed her guests to take her by the hand and spin her, laughing afterwards as they moved on to different partners. Green eyes searched through the dancing hoard, trying to find her husband amongst the tall figures parading about the ballroom. She sighed, activating her eagle vision to locate Henry, but the young woman had no luck in finding the Indian assassin anywhere.

“Jacob?” Evie hoisted her dress up, tapping on her brother’s shoulder to draw his attention. The brunette almost laughed from the specks of powder messily staining his cheeks, shaking her head while she grabbed the handkerchief stuffed inside his pocket. “Have you looked in the mirror lately?”

He cheekily smiled, biting at the powdery treat stuffed with jelly once she was finished dabbing at his face. “This is really good,” he muffled, taking more ravenous bites.

“Don’t go eating all of them,” the elder twin chuckled, turning around to face the crowd. “By any chance, have you seen Henry?”

“Greenie? Can’t say I have. I’ve been here all the time.”

She quirked an eyebrow at him, about to ask why he didn’t enjoy the celebration with all his friends when her eyes immediately spotted her bridesmaid standing alone against the wall with her arms crossed. Evie softly smirked to herself, watching Charlotte silently eye the crowd before turning back to her brother with a knowing look across her face. “Seriously?”

“Just so you know, she has a hidden desire for treats,” he grumbled, lapping at the jelly from the dessert. “That’s what Clara told me . . .”

“Since when did you ever listen to what Clara said?”

“Just go away, you’re blowing my cover,” he whined.

Evie scoffed at his childish behavior, crossing her arms over her chest. “This is ridiculous. Why are you here stuffing your face instead of asking her to dance? Never knew my brother was so afraid in socializing with a woman . . .”

He secretly eyed the raven-haired woman all by her lonesome, jaw clenching from his sister’s taunting remark. Jacob sighed, setting down the half-eaten treat before nervously fixing the collar of his shirt, crumbs landing across his chest. “How do I look?”

“Oh Jacob . . .” She wiped away at his face, bickering with him when he tried retreating from her care. Evie exhaustedly sighed, shoving him the handkerchief in defeat before scurrying away from her stubborn brother to look for Henry.

Her heels pounded against the marble floor, walking further away from the ballroom. She had searched the entire place for her husband, but for some reason he refused to reveal his presence. Now, as the British woman tiredly roamed around the corridors with her blistering feet, she was about to give up her search, but a flicker of movement from outside made her brightly smile. _That might be him._

Fingers rapidly pushed aside the glass door leading outside, stepping out into the chilly air and letting the moon embrace her. She could get lost in this place and not mind at all, loving the idea of being free to roam around without anyone to dictate what she does and when she does it. The gardens were exceptionally wonderful, the flowers glowing from the wet droplets decorating their vibrant petals.

Her head snapped towards the sound of laughter, moving closer to the pair of kids outside playing by the fountain with their hands submerged inside the water. “Clara?”

The young girl rapidly sat up from the fountain ledge, gasping as she accidentally sprayed her male friend beside her. They both laughed it off afterwards, hopping off the ledge and strolling towards the elder woman with excited faces. “Evie!”

The brunette returned their hugs, awkwardly bending down from their small heights. “Glad to see you’re okay, though what were you doing by the fountain? Does anyone know you’re here?”

Clara’s face turned red, feet shuffling in front of her as if she was caught in a dirty secret. “No . . . we were just playing with the fishes, that’s all . . .”

“Alright, don’t stray too far. Oh, have you seen Henry nearby? I’ve been looking all over for him.”

Seeing the young girl chuckling with her brown-haired friend made Evie question their playful behavior, wondering why it was such a big secret in not telling her where her husband was. _She always knows everything, wouldn’t be surprised if she knows where Henry went._

Clara wiped a tear from the corner of her eye, leaning closer so no one would hear, even though they were the only ones outside. “You didn’t hear it from me, but Henry is waiting for you upstairs,” she whispered.

“Upstairs? What for? Clara!”

But the kids went back to the fountain, ignoring her questions as they immersed themselves in their little activity. Evie sighed, already done asking around and wasting her breath; she felt as if she was trapped in an inescapable maze, though she urged herself to at least listen to Clara’s advice. Without another word, Evie gripped onto the white gown and silently retreated back inside the palace.

Rising up the grand staircase, with her hand sliding across the cool railing, Evie’s mind tried extracting what her small friend meant when she mentioned her husband being upstairs. A small frown marred her face, getting closer to the top while contemplating possible explanations for his sudden disappearance. Why on earth would he leave the party and go upstairs where the empty rooms—

 _Oh_. The brunette blushed, suddenly feeling butterflies in her stomach once realization dawned onto her. She had completely forgotten about her wedding night, more specifically what she would be doing with Henry after the wedding celebration. She had spent so much time with her guests that the thought of consummating their marriage had completely banished from her mind.

Evie bit down on her lower lip, gasping from the trail of rose petals going inside the dark room once she reached the top of the landing. Her hand gently reached for a beautiful red petal, inhaling the sweet fragrance in awe. _Such a romantic._

“Henry?” The British woman lightly called out into the darkness, fingers rapping onto the wooden door-frame. She politely waited a few seconds before walking into the humble abode, cautiously observing the well-kept place.

All was quiet inside the room, causing an unsettling feeling to sink in the pits of her stomach. If only she had bothered to strap her knives on her body then Evie wouldn’t feel as vulnerable should anything go wrong, but even she admitted the sensation of having the sharp edges scrap against her skin was unbearable whenever she walked.

A king-sized bed was the only thing that captured her attention, the furniture simply situated in the middle of the room surrounded by petals, and her face grew hot just envisioning all the wild things coursing through her mind. Gazing at the lush sheets, her body absentmindedly strode over to the edge, crawling over the mattress. She sighed from the heavenly touch, sprawling over the bed as she gazed at the ceiling above her.

_I could get used to this._

Her eyes shone once they landed on the male silhouette gazing out by the window, instantly rushing to his side and locking her arms around his neck. She let Henry cup her chin and plant a lingering kiss against her lips, arms dragging him closer so she could feel every muscle bulge underneath her. Breaking apart, Evie felt her husband chuckle against her lips, shivering when he gently pecked her forehead lovingly.

“How is my love?” he whispered, brushing a stray lock of hair behind her ear.

“Fine actually, except you had me going mad looking for you,” she teased. Her fingers lightly traced the side of his neck, watching him quiver underneath her feather touch. “The roses are lovely . . .”

Henry abruptly grabbed her hand from his neck, dark eyes intently staring back at her as his mouth made contact with her knuckles. She gulped from the evident passion in his eyes as he heatedly kissed the tops of her fingers, a trail of fire migrating across her body. Her knees suddenly felt weak, and it took all of her willpower to not collapse from the heightening pressure.

Evie shrieked when her feet were carried over his arms, her body firmly pressed up against him. A soft giggle escaped past her parted lips, a hand playfully hitting against his broad chest. “Henry!”

The Indian man only chuckled, depositing his wife on the spacious bed, relishing on her surprised gasp from the unexpected action. The corners of his mouth lifted, knees hastily moving across the mattress in order to reach his beautiful wife. Arms entrapped the British woman, and he leaned closer to her feminine body while inhaling her lavender scent. “Are you alright?”

She quietly nodded, molding her lips against his own when she glimpsed upon his worried face. His muffled groan and warm hands tightly holding onto her arms made the female assassin quake, and she released a shaky moan when his legs tangled against hers, instantly deepening the kiss. When she gasped from the delicious rub against her moist center, her husband swiftly delved his tongue inside her mouth, causing the brunette to sigh into the caress.

Evie hesitantly detached herself from Henry, hips buckling against his knee that continued to knead her core. She hissed when he moved slower, nails digging into his biceps from the agonizing torture. If only the puffy dress wasn’t in the way of their intimate touches; Evie wished to perceive their joined bodies without any barriers, to feel every revelation of their skins smashing against one another. “Henry,” she mewled, glazed eyes staring back at his dark irises full of love.

“Soon,” he breathed, briefly silencing her strained gasps before lifting his shirt. He then plucked at the flower pins from her braided hair, making sure her hair didn’t get caught in the wires.

Her hands assisted him in discarding her pins, clasping onto his fingers while they placed the objects by the small desk beside the bed. With every pin taken from the confines of her bun, her breath increased in anticipation, nervously licking her dried lips. But Evie stopped her action when she noticed Henry’s eyes zoning in on her innocent move, goosebumps crawling over her skin from the wide, dark pupils staring back at her.

“Why don’t you help me out of this dress?” Evie purred, fingers mildly tugging onto the straps of her wedding dress. She had no clue as to what possessed her to behave so wildly, but watching the deep gulp of his Adam’s apple bob from her bold declaration gave her a wonderful power she never knew she had.

“Evie,” his deep voice groaned out, latching onto the smooth ankles that peeked from underneath her dress. Henry carefully took her slippers off her feet, carelessly throwing them aside onto the carpet. He then crawled over to his wife, teasingly lifting the end of her dress and feeling her skin ripple underneath his warm palms. “You’re exquisite.”

A faint blush adorned her freckled face, shyly hiding within herself while Henry whispered praises across her peachy skin. Heat began pooling between her legs from his native tongue, jumping as his chest fluidly slithered up her torso. When the straps of her dress were tugged down by his skillful fingers, Evie didn’t hesitate in latching onto her husband to deliver a moist kiss against his lips.

White light gradually danced across the carpet, illuminating the pair on the bed indulging in their blissful desires. The hypnotic sounds of crickets chirping in the night somehow augmented the lustful atmosphere with their harmony, for the couple’s breathy moans increased throughout the silent room.

Her arms protectively sheltered around her torso, hating how the cold air slapped against her skin once the dress was shrugged off her body. She ached to feel the warmth cloud over her, and her husband managed to fulfill her wish as his bare chest collided with her body. The wave of euphoria revisited her waking thoughts, shuddering from the graphic pictures playing across her vision, all of them revolving around Henry.

Snapping out of her reverie, Evie looked at the kind smile gracing his features, her heart fluttering from how caring he could be around her. She couldn’t help but return the favor, tugging his arms around her back so he could continue with his ministrations.

Nothing had ever felt so good than divulging in her whims, meeting Henry halfway through all the curious touches on each other’s bodies that were accessible to them. Her fingers sinfully glided down his chest, his shuddering breath against her ear making blood pound through her veins. She gasped from the large hand that ventured down her breasts, flushing as he cupped them before continuing his journey downward. Her back arched unconsciously when he leisurely padded across her damp underwear, shakily clutching onto his shoulder while he continued, half-wondering where he learned that skill.

_He is full of surprises._

“H-Henry,” the brunette hissed, gyrating her hips along to his sinful strokes. Sweat pooled over her skin, coating around her mounds and cascading down her stomach. Her eyes cringed, head thrown back from the pleasurable sensation building up inside of her. “Don’t stop!”

Henry complied with her demand, this time picking up his pace and hitting past her quivering sex, groaning from the moisture beading around the fabric of her undergarment. His fingers scissored into her clit, stroking onto the small nub while taking in her soft cries. Soon he was able to angle his strokes deeper, plunging in and out as she greedily took him in.

“God, Evie.” He hissed from the way her sex swallowed his fingers in, wanting to rid of the flimsy material clothing her. But he felt her walls contracting around her, and he knew his wife would soon come to her end in a matter of seconds.

Meanwhile, Evie just moaned above him, not caring if her throat was scratchy from all the screaming. Her clit throbbed from his touch, her juices already dampening her soggy underwear. Her parted legs wrapped themselves around his waist, staining through the front of his pants as she held onto him. It didn’t help that his hard arousal twitched underneath her, making the female assassin spiral out of control.

With a final cry, the British woman convulsed from the powerful force, her sweaty forehead meeting his glistening shoulder while she orgasmed against his fingers. Evie sighed, already feeling the effects of exhaustion overpower her, and they haven’t even finished yet!

She cringed when Henry massaged her swollen clit, clenching her teeth as he tore away at the barrier separating their sexes. The naked feeling sweeping down her private part was maddening, loathing the prickling sensation from the aftermath. Even if she tried to move, the burning sensitivity prevented her from shifting even a fraction of her limbs.

“Ah!” Her eyes closed shut, her face contorting as the young man circled her sex and collected her essence. She continued writhing underneath him until she was confident that Henry moved away from her; her eyelids peeked open just in time to witness her husband sucking on his coated fingers, flushing in embarrassment.

As soon as Henry ceased lapping up her cum, he took his time marveling at his wife’s exposed form. His slicked hands wandered across her shining breasts, seeing her still as her skin crawled from the added warmth. He then traced over her neck, gazing into her eyes before their tongues met.

If she had known Henry was such a great kisser, she would’ve asked him to ravish her ages ago, to hell with what others would say about their inappropriate behavior. The way his hot appendage wickedly pressed against her mouth and fondled every corner left untouched had the British woman deathly gripping onto his scalp as her toes curled. While her husband deeply angled the passionate kiss, Evie stealthily weaved her fingers down the plane of his back and into his pants.

“Evie!” He gave a startled yelp, scrutinizing her swollen red lips before quizzically raising his eyebrow from the mischievous glint in her light green eyes.

Evie deviously smirked, hands ghosting over the outline of his sculpted ass. She giggled from the tormented look crossing over his features, clearly trying to decide if he should submit to her gesture or not. Her fingers pierced into his skin when he restrained from showing any signs, and instantly she found her back tossed onto the mattress with her wrists above her head.

Henry shook his head, nipping across her collarbone as she squealed in surprise. “You little vixen.”

“Did I not please you?” she coyly asked.

“No, you pleased me immensely,” his deep accent sent waves across her spine, her back arching on instinct.

They’ve spent the next hour wrapped around the sheets, not taking notice of their guests who were worriedly searching for their whereabouts. If they were smart, they wouldn’t dare intrude on their private moment after hearing the ecstatic moans from outside, but so far no one had the courage to barge in. The couple could care less, too enrolled in their coupling to even notice how the sky grew darker with every bated breath whispered in each other’s ears.

By now, Evie’s back was turned so that her face comfortably laid on the pillow, arms caging around the massive object. Her brown hair had come apart a while ago, her wavy locks messily scattering over her shoulder. Her ears distinctly listened to Henry’s breeches loosening from behind, shuddering from his weight that pressed against her sweaty back. She relaxed when he softly kissed the underside of her ear, allowing for him to turn her head around so she could peer into his soft warm eyes.

“I will be gentle,” the assassin promised, nudging her legs aside before burying himself inside of her with a final groan.

 _Oh god!_ Evie cringed from the scorching pain in her loins, biting onto the pillow for comfort. Tears sprang into her eyes, attempting to divert her attention away from the numbing pain. She felt Henry stop above her, and his hands smoothed away the hair matting against her forehead.

“I’m so sorry,” Henry replied, caressing her face to alleviate her turmoil. “I’ll stop—”

She fervently shook her head, wiping at her glossy eyes. “No,” she finally breathed after a while, “I’m fine. Please, continue.”

“Are you sure?”

Evie nodded, affectionately burrowing her nose into his dark hair. She left gentle kisses against his pulse, causing the Indian man to twitch inside of her. “Yes.”

A prolonged groan fell out into the open air, and Evie unceremoniously lifted her body a bit from the plush mattress to meet his thrusts. Legs constricted around his muscular waist, and her arms steadied themselves onto the pillow in front of her while her head was bent low. Sweat kept pouring down her face, and her teeth grinded together as her husband increased his speed. “Henry!”

Skin slapped against skin, wet noises vacated the room, and her incessant moans kept pouring out from her moist lips. Her juices kept flowing down his swelling cock and dripping onto the bed, and both cried out in pure joy. The overwhelming ecstasy encompassing her entire body felt so good, and with Henry it just made this moment more special.

The buildup soon returned to her heated sex, and Evie swore from the way Henry sloppily smashed against her bum, dragging him deeper so she could enjoy his chest hitting against her back. Hearing his labored breathing over the crook of her neck made her clench around him, seeping more cum onto his groin. It was addicting; every curved stroke that pushed deeper into her womb was simply drawing her closer to the edge.

“Evie!” He chanted against her ear, laying his head on her neck. His teeth bit down on her flesh, tasting the fresh blood stain his teeth.

_I can’t._

Out of nowhere, the female assassin slumped down onto the sheets, releasing a loud shout before climaxing. She screamed his name out into the humid room, elbows locked underneath her body as she thickly cummed all over him. She couldn't spend another minute continuing with their sexy endeavors no matter how much she wanted to, but the pressure gathering in her sex was too overbearing, especially for an inexperienced person like herself. His dark growl made her gasp, letting the young man pour all of his cum inside of her once she was finished, and they both finally fell together in awe.

Tired eyes feebly rose from the pillow, happily gazing back at the chocolate orbs expectantly looking back at her. She softly smiled, furrowing closer to his drenched body with her hands tied around his trembling back, letting his wet cock brush against her thighs. Evie placed a chaste kiss against his lips, letting his arm protectively shield her away from the dark. “I love you, Henry” she yawned, a smile etched across her beautiful face.

“And I love you, Evie” Henry whispered, effectively covering themselves with the blankets before letting sleep take over them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Up Next: Jacob


	6. Curiosity {Jacob Frye}

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What went through Jacob’s mind as he watched Charlotte stick up for her comrade during the gang initiation?
> 
> A short snippet from the My Boss fic

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A request from foreverandever :)
> 
> Rating: G
> 
> Warning: Possible spoiler

He watched from the shadows where no one could bother him over meaningless things, boringly inspecting the gang fight taking place down below the tower of crates he was perched on. After letting the first person challenge one of his Rooks, Jacob knew without a doubt that the red-headed woman would choke on the dirt before she could even lift a finger on the burly man. He smugly smirked when she had tried to elude the fight with her sly words, though his men knew better than to let a mere woman overpower them.

_She’s in over her head. Won’t even survive a minute with him._

Watching the fight escalate, a satisfied grin wormed its way over his chiseled face, once again pleased to see that Arthur never failed in fulfilling his task, for the man delivered powerful kicks to the woman’s face without remorse. His hazel eyes roamed over the fresh blood staining the ground, scoffing to himself when the Irishwoman refused to get up and continue fighting. Was that really all she had left?

Jacob may sound callous, but he had no desire in letting a weak person such as Emily into his gang if all she could do was flaunt her looks at every man she sees. He had no ounce of sympathy in taking an inexperienced rookie into his fold, needing his masses to be well-prepared and street smart; it surly made it easier for him than waste precious time training them while the Templars rapidly surged on.

He needed ruthless people like Arthur, anyone willing to take the risk and fight for their very lives, with unwavering loyalty to remain by his side and never betray him.

Chills crawled down his spine, making the young man uncomfortably shift in his spot from the invasive feeling. He curiously searched through the crowd, trying to find the source of the powerful glare until he spotted a pair of steely blue eyes emotionlessly peering back at his hiding spot.

She is beautiful, that he had to admit, but the way her icy eyes had pinned him in place felt haunting. He hadn’t felt like this since he had abandoned his home for the streets, and his father used to reprimand him with that same exact stern gaze, but hers somehow felt more understanding past the serious exterior—if that ever made any sense to him.

Jacob swallowed from the intensity of her gaze, though he couldn’t stop the knowing grin from ever leaving his face. He almost chuckled from the way she narrowed her eyes, no doubt he had pissed her off for not ending the fight, though what could he do about it? Wasn’t his fault her associate couldn’t handle a punch.

“Wait, what is she doing?” the male assassin whispered to himself, baffled by how the silent woman easily wormed her way through the raging crowd and into the ring without his consent. From the corner of his eyes, he caught a flash of yellow hair belonging to a little girl no more than ten years old taking Emily away, and he had to give the woman credit for being innovative.

Everyone fell silent from seeing the raven-haired warrior calmly stand in place, and Jacob wondered if her fighting skills are just as good as her deadly aura. Hearing her bluntly mocking him in front of his men had initially sent him on edge, his egotistical pride wounded from her harsh words, yet something else had surfaced over as the assassin watched her coolly leveling her oppressor. A wide grin settled across his face after she challenged his companion, laughing to himself while effectively staying where he was.

“Let’s see what you’re made of,” Jacob replied, eyes shining when the woman made the first move.

Not a moment went by where he felt unimpressed by every attack the dark-haired woman threw at Arthur, already interested to see who would win. Both seemed equally matched, at least that’s what Jacob had thought of at first, but he detected the young woman to be more calculating than Arthur, more in control of her emotions. The way she had the large man in a choke-hold was a wise move on her part, and if the stoic woman kept it up, Jacob knew without a doubt that she could easily finish the fight.

Just where the hell did she come from?

_I’ve seen her after the gang war. She can’t be an assassin, but she sure can fight like one . . ._

So many questions clouded his train of thought, yet no one could answer them for him. If he ever wanted to know, then he would have to risk asking her himself. What was her name again?

_Charlotte._

He remembered a few of his men talking about her in hushed whispers, as if saying her very name out in the open would instantly kill them—he wouldn’t blame them, the woman can be quite intimidating. Tasting the name on his tongue, Jacob thought it matched her description well for someone with strength like hers.

His fists clenched when Charlotte took in all the beatings, watching her struggle from her restraints. Most women, like Emily, would’ve cried out in defeat and bury themselves away in shame, but not this one. It was as if the dark-haired woman was used to being tortured, and Jacob only rubbed his chin in thought as he studied her strained expression.

He blinked a few times, making sure his eyes didn’t deceive him with the sudden events that unfolded right before him. But the male assassin only chuckled to himself, his hands itching to clap out loud at her performance when Charlotte ruthlessly beat down the two men and knocked them out with one blow to their heads.

He knew he would have to intervene immediately once her fists dug into another man’s shirt, anticipating another brutal attack from her. So he let his fingers brush past the wooden surface, leaping onto the floor with ease when no one was looking. Jacob silently walked behind the gang, smiling to himself when she readied her fist.

_It’s settled; she’s part of the gang._

His curiosity already peaked.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Up Next: Jacob x Charlotte


	7. A New Life {Jacob x Charlotte}

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jacob never imagined seeing her again after the war, but he's glad she was here to stay with him for good. However, his life suddenly changes once Charlotte finally confesses about the unexpected pregnancy.
> 
> A snippet for the My Boss fic

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A request from FluffyWulf :D
> 
> Sorry for the long wait, sweetheart. School is stressful, and I also had to finish the story in order to get inspiration in writing this baby X'D
> 
> I've recently added another pairing onto my list: Ezio x Sofia; I fell in love with these two after finishing Revelations. If anyone is interested in having a story on them, let me know.
> 
> Rating: G or T
> 
> Warning: Possible Spoiler & Jacob being Jacob

Jacob gazed at the map spread across his desk, chuckling to himself as the pen scratched off another section of London. He sighed, pleased to see the various “X” marks all around the paper. It wouldn’t be long until the entire city was repaired; they only had a few more towns to cover on the east end and then finish with Westminster until this whole nightmare was finally over.

It’s amazing how much he had accomplished in only a matter of months.

A sense of pride filled the assassin’s heart as he recalled all the bright smiles from the townsfolk, glad he could be of service to every one of their demands. After the war, no one would’ve thought they could mend the broken pieces scattered behind by Nora's men, though the Rooks gave them a reason to continue fighting— _he_ had encouraged them to brush aside their fears and start fixing everything back to the way it was. Soon businesses gradually reopened and people were motivated to march onward, and the horror of the war dissipated like a surreal dream.

Despite all the achievements, Jacob couldn’t shake off the emptiness invading his mind whenever he glanced upon the busy crowd. He always seemed distracted while everyone around him pursued their goals; even when his men tried asking for suggestions on reform projects he would blankly stare off into the distance and drone on their words. No matter how much he tried to remain optimistic, the hollowness inside his heart refused to leave, knowing full well who had left it there in the first place.

Two months was far too long without her presence; the younger twin needed her close to him, to feel the connection that had sparked from that night in Westminster. In all the times he’s stayed in London, no one like Charlotte could ever understand his hidden pain he had meticulously concealed from the naked eye. He too felt her anguish during that night when their raw emotions spiraled out of control, groaning from recalling every tender touch and heated kiss searing across his body. Jacob tried confronting her after successfully freeing his friends from the manor, but she was already long gone.

Imagine his surprise when the warrior had willingly appeared into his compartment after all this time in hiding, and he couldn’t have been happier.

He insisted she stay with him, letting her calmly talk to him about her past in vivid detail. All he wanted was to get to know her; how she met Nora, what made her closed off from everyone, anything to feel closer to her than what he felt right now. He needed to be reassured that the real Charlotte was there with him and not some illusion tormenting with his heart.

Jacob patiently listened to it all, silently hearing her recount one of her earlier childhood memories as a teen. A sharp pang drove through his heart, fisting through the organ and tearing it out with every word spoken in the sterile atmosphere. How could someone like her have the will to continue after being exposed to that?

_She was too young to handle that kind of burden._

A few days have passed since Charlotte’s return; they instantly fell into a routine, with the British man requiring her assistance for the reformation. She agreed without hesitation, recommending they divide the workload by splitting the Rooks into smaller groups and fanning them out across London. In the mornings she paraded the streets with the Rooks while he camped inside the train hideout with his charts, and then in the evenings Jacob would go around town with the Rooks to see what remained.

The brown-haired man was glad to have someone else take the reins for the moment while his sister was abroad with Henry, feeling the stress radiating off his body like waves. He never knew how difficult it could be leading others until now, wanting nothing more than to stay in his bed the entire week from the lack of sleep. Despite their unresolved relationship, he appreciated the tall woman for putting through with his childish demeanors, even if it meant forcibly dragging his feet out of bed.

Footsteps padded across the carpet of the cozy compartment, a wide smile etching across his chiseled face. Jacob didn’t have to turn around to know that it was Charlotte, immediately dropping the pen and rushing to her side. Wrapping his arms around her waist, the assassin silenced her words by enclosing his mouth over hers, feeling her warmth underneath the layers of clothing. Large hands cupped her hips closer as he angled the kiss, hearing their breaths hotly mixing together.

When they broke apart, the first thing he noticed was the serious expression plastered across her face, knowing when the Scottish woman was troubled. Eyebrows furrowed in thought, his thumb gliding underneath her chin. “Something wrong, love?”

“. . . No,” Charlotte calmly replied, her gunmetal eyes trained on him.

Jacob wasn’t too convinced, but he knew better than to pry; he wouldn’t prod for any more information until she was comfortable enough to share. He faintly nodded, reluctantly separating from her to peer down at the long map across the table. “So, Lambeth is set?”

A prolonged pause filled the room while the pen airily moved around the paper; he messily scratched off the area surrounding Lambeth in anticipation. His ears perked up when she spoke again, though he didn’t turn around to face her. “Yes, but—”

“It’s about time,” he interrupted, unintentionally ignoring whatever she had to say after that. A huge grin sported across his face from the few spaces left on the map. “Alright, it doesn’t appear we have a lot left on our plate . . .”

“Jacob—”

“Hm, we could fan out three groups across Westminster. It’s the only place still in need of major repairs,” the younger twin commented, rubbing his chin in thought. “Maybe I should personally check on the others, ask for more help.”

Charlotte exasperatedly sighed, arms crossed over her chest as she continued watching the young man muttering to himself. His aloofness never ceased to amaze her, though she could see how dedicated the assassin was to his cause. The optimistic drive was something she needed to reassure her that this was the right moment to tell him.

A soft smile wormed its way over her face, coolly leaning against the table while her light eyes examined his work. “I’m pregnant.”

He shook his head, slumping down in the chair with the pen tapping against his pursed lips. “No, that would take long. A carriage would be faster, but then again you’re pregnant—”

The pen deftly fell from his grasp, tumbling onto the lush carpet until it collided with the hard wall. No sound emitted from the room besides the loud noise coming from the moving tracks, the cars slightly jostling from the momentum. Sunlight peeked into the cozy loft, happily flashing through the flimsy curtains and over their forms.

Jacob blinked, realizing what he had said a moment ago. All feeling drained away from his hands, finding his nerves shutting down one by one. Even his skin grew ghost white, noticing the pale color taking effect over his fingers. His hazel eyes could only focus on the marks in front of him, recalling every word of their conversation that disturbed his mind.

_Pregnant?_

Calculating the last time he saw her, Jacob was pretty sure that night in Westminster might’ve resulted in her pregnancy, for it had been her first time. The fact that she appeared on the train to inform him of the child meant that he was somehow involved, but there was that small voice that kept pestering him, tempting him into accepting that there was a slight chance he may not be the father. Was there a possibility that she met someone else?

He expectantly looked at Charlotte’s composed reaction while his mouth grew dry, not once rising from the chair. Hazel orbs sought out the truth hidden within her icy eyes, trying to prevent his fists from clenching at the thought of some other punk touching her. “I-Is it . . . am I . . .”

“Yes,” the raven-haired woman bluntly replied, sensing the relief settle over the young man. “I visited a doctor over at Lambeth who confirmed my condition. He proclaimed I was two months into the pregnancy, though to be honest I hadn’t realized it until—”

Charlotte almost stumbled from his crushing hug, gripping onto the table’s edge while she let his full weight hover over her. Her arms hesitantly embraced the British man, not comprehending how to handle this situation as he stood motionless. Of all the things to expect, _this_ wasn’t one of them. Was he excited, worried, terrified?

His fingers soothingly roamed over her black locks, burying himself in the crook of her neck as he released a deep chuckle. The wide smile refused to leave from his face, and why would it? They were having a baby!

“We’re getting married,” Jacob unexpectantly blurted out, causing the woman to still underneath him. “I’m serious.”

“Jacob.” Strong arms pushed his muscular frame away from her, planting both hands against the plane of his hard chest. She slightly tilted her head, intensely staring back at him before continuing. “I’m not expecting you to give up your life, everything you’ve worked so hard to achieve, because of this. As much as I want what’s best for the child, nothing is more important than your happiness and what _you_ want. You don’t have to feel obligated in doing this.”

Her words had stung him, yet Jacob knew that she was only looking out for his best interests, offering him a way out of this whole situation. Charlotte wasn’t a callous person, and once again Jacob wished she had at least a small ounce of selfishness because he couldn’t stand how she sacrificed everything for the sake of others.

“Take some time to figure this whole thing out,” the male assassin heard her lowly reply, feeling the panic latch onto him as he watched her edging away. Without thinking his hand shot over her wrist, reeling the startled woman towards him with a firm tug. He dug his fingers deep into her hips, making sure she saw the passionate emotion clouding over his glossy eyes.

She needed to understand how desperate with desire she made him feel; it was all because of her that made him become an entirely different person. No matter how much time passes, he will one day make her understand that this wasn’t out of responsibility; he couldn’t even keep himself together from her long absence. If two months was torturous enough, imagine a whole year or even forever without her and their child—it would be agonizing!

_I’m not losing you again._

“I’m done waiting, love,” Jacob huskily replied. “You will always be a part of me, and I can see that you feel the same way, even if you won’t allow yourself to put your feelings above others. I love and respect you enough to do this not just out of pity, and most certainly not by some moral obligation. I can’t imagine living a life without you or our child.”

Nothing had eased his conscious away than the feel of her muscles slowly coming undone, letting the Scottish woman sink into his arms. This felt fight—she felt right—and it would only get better so long as she remained by his side forever. Jacob breathed a sigh of relief, gently kissing her forehead after she whispered her consent. He stared out the window, seeing the golden glow of the buildings pass by the train as they bounded towards their next stop.

They were both inexperienced in this, but together they might just make it work. Nothing could ever tear them apart again, and he was determined to pull through the very end with her by his side. _There's nothing to worry about_.

How bad could it be?

 

“I’m not ready,” Jacob cried out, hands rapidly grabbing the wine bottle from the rack. Without hesitation he unscrewed the top, letting the tangent taste slide down his throat before wiping his mouth with the back of his sleeve. He discarded the empty glass once it was finished, moving on to the next available bottle from the slot.

With each passing day since Charlotte’s announcement, Jacob thought he could maintain his strength for when the baby arrived. He spent more time with the Scottish woman until the wedding passed, and their love for one another only increased from there. None of them expressed any doubts in all of this; they accepted the joyous moment with confidence that their newborn would eventually bring more happiness into their lives.

Through time, the assassin became more patient with everything around him, suddenly feeling a sense of maturity overcome him. No longer did Jacob stay up late completing missions, instead having full faith in his men to get the job done while he looked after his wife. It was strange at first, especially since Charlotte too expressed her distaste for being useless, though as long as they were together nothing mattered.

This was their life now, and he promised to make the best of it.

However, when the dark-haired woman was already six months into her pregnancy, a strong wave of emotions suddenly crashed onto him at full force—most of them negative thoughts about his failure in being a good father. The nightmares were too intense for him; he’d wake up screaming every night and sweating uncontrollably from the morbid images flashing in his mind. Only when his wife cradled him in her arms and soothingly whispered in his ears did Jacob finally submit, eyes drooping as they fell asleep together.

He tried his best in remaining hopeful, offering a smile whenever she suspected something bothering him. He wanted to share with her all of his worries, but how could he when they promised each other to not let this ruin them?

 _No, not ruin,_ he berated himself as he drank the alcoholic beverage. _Nothing could ever ruin our life, not even our child._

Maybe it wasn’t the child he was worried about—Jacob was wholly positive it wasn’t—but the idea that he could ever one day become like his father scared him. He had despised the man with every fiber of his being ever since mother died during childbirth, loathing how he easily abandoned his responsibilities in raising him and his twin sister. Nothing had hurt him more than watching the old man return several years later at his grandmother’s doorstep demanding for them to live with him, without offering any kind of explanation or an apology for leaving them in the first place.

And as he sat there drowning in his sorrows, Jacob couldn’t help but picture his wife’s lifeless body after her labor. The nausea surfaced on his tongue, choking on the wine while her lifeless eyes and limp body remained imprinted in his thoughts. _No, anything but that!_

“Jacob, are you in here?”

God, how could he ever explain to her the current state he was in? He would rather die than scare his wife away with his dark thoughts, not wanting to shake her up when she was carrying their child. _Then again, she’s pretty dark herself . . ._

The British man tiredly rubbed at his stubble, lapping at the bitter taste lingering on his tongue. He could hear her dress quietly shuffling into the room, faintly smirking from how she can move so noiselessly like an assassin.

He raised his head once Charlotte walked into the study room in her rosy pink nightgown, admiring the soft fabric that contrasted with her ink black hair. He groaned in agony from the thin straps over her porcelain shoulders, never seeing her expose so much skin before. His fingers were tempted to shrug off the flimsy material and take her to their room, but he reminded himself that she was in no condition to handle strenuous activities until the baby was out. _Three more months._

She pivoted her attention towards her husband’s slumped form, sighing from his disheveled appearance and the wine bottle between his fingers. She knew whenever something bothered him to the point where he would turn to alcohol as his salvation, but this was too much. Charlotte had caught him in this same exact position at least ten times this past month, yet she didn’t want to bother him if this was the only way he would calm down. “Jacob?”

He forced himself to grin so she wouldn’t catch the hurt written all over his skin, but the guilt consumed his heart at the deception. _I’m doing this for the both of us,_ he bitterly reasoned with himself.

“That’s new.” The young man gestured towards the silken fabric clothed over her body, admiring the lace trim that showed off her long legs. “I like the color.”

“Emily suggested it, and you’re avoiding the subject,” the raven-haired woman levelly stated, approaching her husband in small steps.

_Always count on Charlotte to point out the obvious._

“. . . I’m fine, sorry.”

“Really?” Her hand came behind his warm back, rubbing it in sympathy. The lines under his eyes told her that he hadn’t slept in a while, knowing full well the nightmares that scared him half to death. “You’re nervous.”

Jacob shook his head, setting the half-empty glass on the oaken table before leaning back into her touch. “No, it’s just . . .”

Elegant fingers titled his chin towards a pair of blue eyes, her mouth set in a thin line as she inspected his tired eyes. She faintly hummed in thought, careful when she kneeled on the floor so as not to strain herself and the baby too much. “What are you afraid of?”

“. . . Myself,” he lowly replied after a moment’s silence, gulping from the soft irises devoid of any reaction. “You probably wouldn’t understand. I don’t want to turn into my father; I’m afraid of waking up one day and being like him. He was always so angry with me and—”

“I do understand,” Charlotte softly whispered, not handling the wounded expression on his face any longer as she affectionately stroked his beard. “Not the reasons that you have, but I can relate. I know how much suffering you bore with him, but I have faith that you won’t act like him. Ever. Your heart is too pure, and you have everyone here who loves you so much they won’t allow you to fall into the darkness.”

His large hand enveloped her delicate one, caressing the golden band of the diamond ring nestled around her finger. He laid a soft kiss against her knuckles, missing the smooth texture of her skin after being isolated in this lonely room for too long. The darkness was beginning to exhaust him, never realizing how out of it he was

Gently rising from the chair with a grunt, Jacob then assisted his wife back up and stared at her with all the love he could muster. “I’m scared,” he confessed to her.

“I know, but you need to have faith. We’ll get through this together.”

No other words escaped past his lips; he could only nod silently, roaming over her round belly in fascination. _Have faith._

Three more months until their baby would finally welcome them with its infectious laughter and soft cries. All his doubts gradually flew away; he was still shaken up from being reminded of the deceased man who tormented him throughout his childhood, though with Charlotte here he had nothing to fear.

* * *

 

The deafening silence was unbearable for the young man as he waited outside the master bedroom, elbows resting on his knees in thought. Hands nervously skimmed over the dark material of his pants, his foot ticking on the tiled floor. The chair creaked from the heavy weight, which then echoed throughout the ominous hallway. He heavily breathed, deciding to lean further back against the wall with his eyes closed, letting the silence overcome him.

It felt like ages since his wife announced that she was going into labor, immediately sending him on edge from the unexpected declaration. She wasn’t supposed to be due until another week, and hearing the news as they were eating dinner at a luxurious restaurant wasn’t exactly the typical night he had planned for them. During the grueling process of taking her home by carriage, Jacob might’ve bumped into several waiters carrying silver plates full of flammable items . . . and thus accidentally setting almost half the place on fire.

 _We’re never going back there ever again,_ he thought, shivering from the death glares he received from the staff. At least they managed to escape before anyone had time to call the police.

After the doctor arrived, Jacob remained near the bedside almost the entire time, watching the old man carefully tending to his wife with gentle hands. He held onto Charlotte, seeing her pale skin glistening from the tension. A faint chuckle left his mouth from the way her jaw clenched together, a few strands of her black hair peeking out of her messy braid. Grabbing the moist rag from the vanity, he quickly cooled her skin so she would be more comfortable, though he hadn’t expected for her hand to latch onto him in a death grip.

“I’m going to kill you,” Charlotte had threatened with her steely eyes, never once easing from her constrictive hold.

Jacob slyly grinned, not once fazed by the ungodly force caging his wrist. He had far worse scenarios in the past that led to broken bones and bloodied scars, so her hormonal state didn’t really bother him much. If anything, the whole situation was quite amusing whenever her vicious side took over. _Brings back so many memories._

“Oh really? How do you plan on doing that?”

Her knuckles turned ghost white, the murderous gleam in her glassy orbs prominently shining from the candlelight. “Maybe I should castrate you first,” she mused.

“That’s rough, love. Wouldn’t want to kill our chances in producing more little ones. Besides, I know how much you love it,” the assassin cheekily replied, distinctly hearing the awkward cough from the doctor on the other side of the room.

“Mr. Frye, I believe we shouldn’t disturb the young woman—”

“Don’t you worry,” he calmly reassured the doctor. “This is just our little foreplay, right dear?”

Needless to say, the elderly man had forced him to wait outside when they heard Charlotte’s pained groan, proclaiming he would bring more anxiety onto the frail woman. He wanted to childishly lash out at him and protest that he had the right to look after his own wife, though he bitterly bit his tongue from the order. _As if I would ever harm her,_ Jacob thought when he mutely left the room, not before laying a tender kiss against Charlotte’s head to soothe her troubles.

All was quiet from the other side; the air howled through the thin crack underneath the door, and Charlotte’s strangled cries ceased. Shadows moved across the wide throng, hiding behind the curtains and away from the moon’s pure light. A shudder slithered down his spine from the prolonged silence; his feet absentmindedly rose from the chair, anxiously gazing at the closed doorway in fear. Was she alright? And the baby?

_Please, stay with me._

The moment the infant released its first wail, the massive doors to the room burst open; the doctor gave a startled yelp from the sudden action as his hand almost reached for the handle, only to be crashed into the taller man.

He caught the glasses that was about to fall onto the floor, placing it back on his bulbous nose before adjusting his white coat. Calmly blinking away the flashes in his eyes, the old man awkwardly patted Jacob’s shoulder and exclaimed, “Congratulations, Mr. Frye. It seems you have a healthy young boy.”

The pointed shoes of the doctor loudly creaked over the floorboard, nodding back to the young couple before exiting the room. Warmth instantly surrounded him as his hazel orbs intently watched Charlotte stroking the child’s blanket with a soft smile. It felt like just yesterday she had joined his ranks, and now seeing her peacefully murmuring to their child sent tears pooling in his eyes. _My family . . ._

She snapped her head up from the soft footfalls approaching her, scooting towards the edge of the bed so her husband could better view their child. Her fingers laced over his in comfort, carefully exchanging the baby into his awaiting arms. “Make sure the head is elevated.”

The baby’s small hand fisted in the air, releasing cute gurgles from being moved away from his nourishing mother. Wide eyes quizzically peered back at the other man in the room, faintly laughing in joy from recognizing his father. The child furrowed deeper into the man’s broad chest, softly breathing over his shirt as his lithe fingers grasped onto him.

Jacob chuckled, caressing the rich dark brown hair over his son’s little head. He couldn’t believe how tiny his child felt in his arms, suddenly aware of how delicate a baby was as he held him. A sense of joy filled his heart, shifting the baby back to his wife before settling himself beside her on the bed. “Have you named him yet?”

Charlotte shook her head, leaning her head on his shoulder while their son happily cooed beneath them. “I wanted to wait for you.”

Peering back at the evident light inside his son’s bright blue eyes, Jacob couldn’t help but widely grin back at the curious child. He weaved his fingers into the Scottish woman’s thick hair, softly planting his lips over hers. A low hum vibrated between them, both parents pulling back when the child unexpectantly sneezed.

“Careful there,” he lightly teased, grinning from the baby’s small yawn.

“Hm.” The dark-haired woman exhaustedly sighed, her damp hair cascading down her shoulder. Staring out into the candlelight beside them, with the ember hotly glowing over their faces and providing warmth, she finally knew what to name their son. “Emmett?”

He hadn’t realized she was talking about the baby until he detected the questioning tone in her luring voice. The name resonated in his mind, nodding off to it like a sweet melody. Images of their son growing up before their eyes sent a tremor through his soul, relishing on the bittersweet thoughts and keeping them close to his heart forever.

Jacob rested his arm around her shoulder, hugging her close to him as they watched their sleeping child. “Emmett,” he agreed.

Almost half an hour have passed after Emmett was born, and the British man was the only one combating the drowsiness. He could feel his wife comfortably resting against his torso, seeing her slightly slump underneath the covers. In the meantime, he was currently carrying baby Emmett, glancing between the two from time to time.

Nothing could ever describe the wondrous feeling of becoming a father, especially one who is blessed with a loyal companion like Charlotte to raise him up from his burdens. And suddenly he didn’t feel scared anymore; the demons from his past washed away into the fog along with the plaguing doubts that used to consume him day and night. He had no more fears, not when everything he needed was right in front of him.

“If this is my new life, then I don’t mind one bit,” Jacob whispered, succumbing to the effects of sleep as the golden light warmly fanned over them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Up Next: Jacob x Charlotte


	8. Do You Want To Dance? {Jacob x Charlotte}

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After standing around doing nothing but watching the crowd be merry, Jacob tries to ask the lone woman to dance, even if it hadn't turned out exactly how he had originally planned.
> 
> A snippet from Wedding Nights

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A request from foreverandever :)
> 
> Rating: G
> 
> Warning(s): N/A

_I hate it when she’s right_ , the younger twin bitterly thought as Evie shuffled further into the dancing hoard to look for her husband. _Can’t my dear sister just mind her own business?_

Gaudy gowns swished across the marble floor as women were gracefully thrown into the air, their slippers soon touching the tiles so that their partners can twirl them. The candlelight coming from the chandelier above casted its golden glow over the various heads spinning around in circles, thus enhancing the lush colors decorating the room. The people all smiled widely from the celebration, dancing away to their hearts content without a single care in the world.

He randomly took a glass from the silver tray, awkwardly looking down at his drink in order to distract himself from the people gliding across the ballroom. The dark liquid brushed against all sides as the glass was lightly twirled beneath his fingers. In just matter of seconds, a warm fire consumed his skin, the alcohol fluidly sliding down his throat and migrating throughout his entire body. Despite the futile effort in distracting himself from the crowd, Jacob just couldn’t tear his gaze away from everyone having a grand time while he remained stuck on the sidelines. Normally, he wasn't one to engage himself in activities such as dancing, but with no one here to accompany him the male assassin couldn’t help but feel left out.

Once the toasts were said, the queen wasted no time in announcing the first dance for the bride and groom. After Evie and Henry finished their performance, everyone was soon submerged into the rich cords stringing throughout the room and paired up. He and his men had laughed at the occasional missteps from other couples, and so he decided to spend the rest of the evening intently watching the crowd mess up in their routine than strut around the place like a peacock. It would have worked had only the other unaccompanied females remained clear from his gang, but they successfully lured them away with their fluttering eyelashes and coy smiles concealed behind their fans.

And now he was here alone and feeling rather bothered by the silence around him.

Throughout all the commotion, he hadn't expected for Charlotte to be in the same predicament as him. The younger twin had assumed that once someone would give the stoic woman a push to join in on the fun then she would eventually crack her shell; he hoped for that day, thinking it was all just a ploy on her part—to what he hadn't the faintest clue. Instead, she chose a perfectly good spot to observe the crowd where no one acknowledged her presence, not in the least bit moving from her position.

_Don't know how she can stand the silence. I can't stand another minute of this!_

Jacob calmly set the cool glass back where it belonged, never once removing his gaze away from the raven-haired woman leaning poised against a column. Even in the darkness the navy color of her dress went well with her ice blue eyes and light skin, both features accentuated even further underneath the fire’s glow. Her usual black hair wasn’t even tied up like she normally had it, but rather it cascaded down her back in smooth waves.

His fingers itched to touch it.

“Jacob!”

The younger twin cursed under his breath when Clara instantly appeared in front of him, the teenage girl briefly blocking the woman who managed to capture his attention for so long. A cunning smile graced the barmaid’s freckled face, balancing on the soles of her feet as she teetered to and fro. Something seemed off from the knowing gleam in her eyes, and the way her arms were clasped behind her back was uncomforting—she was up to something.

_Clara is always up to no good. And somehow it always involves me in her little schemes, or rather pranks._

Jacob exasperatedly sighed, smoothing his hair back coolly while trying to act as if he wasn't attempting to peer over her head to stare at a certain someone. “Yes, Clara? Can’t you see that I’m busy?”

“Busy? How are you busy when I can clearly see you standing here doing nothing?”

He only grumbled in response, refusing to let the teenager have satisfaction over his pitiful state. The violin screeching in the background didn’t help alleviate his sour mood, and he desperately tried to bottle up whatever annoyance he felt towards Clara at this particular moment.

“Is there something you wanted to say to me? Because if not then I can—”

“Just wanted to say hello,” Clara feigned innocence, though the sneaky smile refused to leave from her face. “And you got a little something . . .”

Jacob blinked, following her silent gesture that indicated to the spot under his chin. Looking down at the handkerchief Evie gave him, the younger twin hastily brushed away any remnants of the powdery treat, baffled by how that managed to get under there. He furrowed his eyebrows when the crumbs tumbled into his white shirt in a flurry. At least it wasn’t staining the fabric; if it had been the jelly substance then that was another story, something that would no doubt involve Evie’s infamous lectures.

“Thank—” He abruptly stopped talking when he discovered the little imp was no longer in his presence; she wasn’t even anywhere in the vicinity as far as he could see.

 _Good riddance_. Jacob stuffed the item back in his pocket, reaching for the alcoholic beverage behind him while his other hand rested on the surface of the buffet table. Tired eyes squinted from the blinding lights practically digging through his sockets, creating pits of fire in its path. He tilted his head back, bringing the rim of the wine glass closer to his parted lips.

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you.”

At the sound of her low voice, Jacob automatically jumped in alarm, slightly spilling the drink onto the pristine floor in the process. His heart rate increased with the pounding steps hitting against the tiles, and he had to blink several times to make sure this wasn't some horrid dream.

“W-what?” The male assassin sputtered out, clearing his throat quickly so she wouldn't notice his unease. “What did you say?”

Charlotte didn’t bother repeating what she had said, instead motioning towards his drink. “There's a fish in it.”

“Beg your pardon?”

To his utter surprise, a dark shadow was indeed moving underneath the reflected light. Jacob could visibly detect the shiny scales glinting over his face and the air bubbles being released from the creature’s gaping mouth. Anger boiled over his skin from the revelation that Clara was behind this ridiculous prank, what with her being the only person who had talked to him with that cat-like smile just waiting to cause mischief. Was she trying to poison him?

“I should've known Clara would do something like this,” he muttered, setting aside the drink without bothering to take out the fish. “I just can't believe I didn't notice it sooner.”

Charlotte only offered him a mute nod, redirecting her attention back to the party.

Nothing was said after that; the two were comfortable enough standing next to each other, quietly watching the crowd continuously falling into their routine. He debated whether or not he should strike up a conversation with her; they were perfectly fine as it was, and he didn't particularly want to ruin whatever moment they had right now. In fact, this night was one of the longest nights he’s ever talked to her in a long time, unlike the usual “Hello” or “Goodbye” between tedious missions.

When was the last time they had a decent conversation?

The music suddenly shifted into a more intimate mood, almost as if someone magically altered the atmosphere with a flick of their wrist. In that moment the entire room dimmed a bit as the lights gradually melted down to a sliver, spending long hours hotly licking at the candlewicks. Everyone faltered from their hype, too exhausted to continue through the sonata. Only a handful stayed underneath the chandelier, though their feet refused to budge past the second tile from all the drowsiness, making them look like unmoving statues.

Somewhere in the distance, Jacob could distinguish Ned curtly bowing in front of the queen before leading her to the center of the room. He faintly smirked, not expecting for the suave thief to boldly ask the queen to dance, or act like a gentleman for that matter. _Ned, you sly dog._

If only he had the courage to do the same.

The conversation with Evie was still fresh in his mind, shuffling a bit in place. His initial intentions were to try and lure the raven-haired woman with savory treats—unless Clara had lied to him about her secret—and then hopefully she would come over and join him, possibly hint to something related to the performance taking place.

As he pondered over it, maybe stuffing his face with treats wasn't exactly the smartest idea, for most women loathed men who behaved like pigs. Besides, it's not likely she even had any interest in dancing whatsoever. Charlotte wasn't like the other women vacating this ballroom; whereas the other women preened their hairs and enjoyed social events like this one, the dark-haired warrior preferred getting her hands dirty and chose isolation as her closest friend, sending everyone away with an emotionless expression or sometimes through narrowed eyes if the person didn't take a hint.

_It's worth a try. The worst thing that could happen is I get publicly humiliated and lose my dignity. No pressure . . ._

Jacob awkwardly cleared his throat, noticing her ears had perked up from the unexpected sound. He ran his sweaty palms down the sides of his pants, looking between her and the crowd. “So, wonderful …. Wonderful weather we’re having?”

“We’re inside,” she bluntly replied. “Have been for the past three hours.”

“Right, I knew that . . .” He mentally berated himself for sounding so idiotic. Just where the hell did that come from? Never in his entire life would he ever imagined uttering those mundane words repeated over and over throughout his life. “Any relatives came with you?”

“They’ve been dead for as long as I can remember.”

_Crap._

From time to time, the younger twin stole secretive glances at his companion to see how she was faring, sometimes moving to the side when someone needed to reach the refreshments from behind. Jacob would open his mouth to try and get his question across, for the real reason why he stalked around here was to eventually ask her to dance, but the moment her light eyes scanned over him he immediately grew silent. Maybe it was a good thing he hadn’t asked since he wasn’t entirely sure if Charlotte was offended by his previous questions, making his chances from receiving a “yes” slim to none.

Funny, he wasn’t normally fazed by anyone or anything standing in his path, but with her icy stare pinning him down it was like trying to maneuver past a stone wall. A very hard stone wall.

A low grumble interrupted his thoughts, instinctively padding his fingers over the source that disrupted the mood. His stomach protested a bit, and despite the treats from earlier it dawned to him that he was still famished.

 _Next time I won’t skip lunch_ , the male assassin thought as he snatched a few dumplings from the tray, offering some to Charlotte. The moment the food entered his mouth was pure bliss, glad to finally sate his hunger for the time being.

“Ever been to one before?” He asked after a while, gorging his food and disregarding the pesky flakes getting stuck inside his coat. If he continued at this rate, he would need his sister to personally groom him every five minutes.

The Scottish woman furrowed her eyebrows in thought. “A wedding party?”

“What else, love?”

Charlotte shrugged, taking a small bite out of her own dumpling while passively watching a pair of feet swishing in front of her. She hummed in thought, swallowing her food before replying back to him. “Not that I know of. I'm not exactly invited to gatherings like these, but then again I wouldn’t mind not going.”

He frowned. “Really? I'm not too fond of these pansy things either, but sometimes I’m forced to attend balls with Evie on our missions. This isn’t exactly half bad compared to what I’ve seen.”

_She seems calm. Now’s your chance, Jacob. Ask her!_

The small voice inside his head only diminished with the doubts clouding over his thoughts. He licked his lips in anticipation, fingers slightly twitching from the thick tension that shrouded the lively atmosphere. There was still that fear of rejection, fearful that if he did ask then she would downright flatly tell him no. Not that he wasn’t used to being rejected; living with his uptight sister and cruel father had made him accept it before they could teach it to him.

All men who had approached Charlotte before had tried, all of them unsuccessful in snaring the ice queen. The last thing he ever wanted was for her to assume he was one of those men; life wouldn’t be the same if their relationship spiraled downhill over a false misconception. How will they ever face each other on missions, or around their friends?

_Now you’re blowing this out of proportion. It couldn’t hurt to try. For god’s sake, it’s a bloody dance!_

“. . . Do you,” Jacob briefly closed his eyes for a moment, trying to ground out the right words that were currently lodged in his throat. His face flushed from feeling her eyes boring into his soul, take a deep gulp to better brush away all of his anxieties. “D-do you want to . . . I mean I understand if you don’t, I just figured—”

“Yes.”

He was so baffled by the abrupt response that his jaw was hanging open in utter disbelief. Thank goodness no one, not even his sister or Greenie for that matter, was around to witness this spectacle. Had he heard her correctly? Did she seriously just accept his proposal?

Upon better examining the raven-haired woman from the side, he swore there was a faint twitch peaking at the corner of her mouth. If he didn’t know any better, he would’ve guessed that she was smiling, almost as if she was amused . . .

That’s a first.

“Really?” Jacob smoothed down his white shirt, creasing any wrinkles and tugging his coat closer to his body. A wave of excitement formed inside of him, not believing his luck was turning for the better. “This isn’t a trick, right? Clara didn’t put you up to this?”

“No.”

“Huh . . .” He lightly bobbed his head off, trying to restrain the wide grin just waiting to reveal itself. “Wait, I was supposed to finish asking you. I nearly spent the entire evening standing around here, hoping to . . . Well, now I feel like it was all pointless.”

Charlotte wiped her hands clean, dumping the empty plate behind all the confectionery treats parading around one another. “Not exactly. I did agree.”

“Yes, but—can we just start over?”

She said nothing, only observing her companion’s ashamed face. In a moment like this she would have reminded him how much precious time they were wasting as the night was coming to an end, hearing the music waning in the background. Nonetheless, Charlotte knew how much this meant to him, so she would comply with his wishes at the moment. Thus, she offered a faint nod and reluctantly allowed for Jacob to take her hand in his.

He breathed, moving a bit closer to the tall woman before him. A small smile etched across his chiseled face, hazel eyes gleaming with that playfulness he was notorious for having. “Charlotte, would you like to dance with me?”

“I’d thought you’d never ask.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologize for the long hiatus; I hadn't expected it to happen. Senior events, college transcripts, and AP mock exams have dominated my schedule for the past two months. But on the bright side April is looking to be free for me, so I'm very excited I can finally have a break from all the craziness! :D
> 
> If anyone has a request, feel free to comment :)


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